Take a Chance and Make it Big
by Cariganna
Summary: Hermione returns to Hogwarts as the new Charms Professor and is confronted with the terrors of teaching and the joys of one Severus Snape...3 Part Story. And as always, R&R!
1. A Wayward Smile

A Wayward Smile

Pt.1

Years had elapsed, almost a decade, since she had walked through the Great Hall and out of the double oak doors amidst a torrent of pointed caps thrown into the air…

And here she was again struggling not to loiter as she made her way up to the Headmaster's room. She ran a hand nostalgically across the large hourglass that housed the red rubies of Gryffindor, thinking fondly of all of the points she had garnered her house during her rein. Top of the class, indeed! Each of the professors had held her in such high regards, all except the very one she now had to impress.

Severus Snape watched the bushy brunette meander slowly toward his office with mixed feelings of dread and confusion. After Flitwick's unceremonious retirement, Snape had been left with only two weeks to find a suitable replacement. Charms Masters, while more plentiful than Potions Masters, were still a rare commodity. He had found only two willing to interview for the position: Miss Granger and a rather annoying upstart who insisted on being addressed as Amplus Nequam, although Severus had it on good authority his name was Bryan. He had interviewed Nequam first in the hopes that he could wholly ignore Miss Granger's application, but as Nequam spoke nothing but Latin (giving Severus the most splitting headache in his attempts to translate), it seemed the blasted Granger girl would be the next Charms Professor. Still, she needn't know she was the only candidate. Perhaps she could be persuaded not to apply after all… and then Flitwick would have to continue another year.

Hermione stopped in front of the gargoyle and realized at once that she didn't know the password. _How dare Snape leave this crucial piece of information out? _Hermione thought, feeling an almost irrational level of anger bubble to the surface. Now she would undoubtedly be late, which, upon further reflection, was probably his aim from the start. "Will you let me in?" she questioned the marble statue, knowing it was futile.

"Password?" said the gargoyle, not bothering to even open his marble eyelids.

"I don't quite know, but I have business with the Headmaster. An interview," She sounded pathetic, pleading with a statue.

"No password. No entry."

Hermione withdrew the summons she had received from Snape, half hoping the password would be there. She had read the impersonal notice several times already, and knew it held nothing.

_You will report to the Headmaster of Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry at precisely nine in the morning for an interview with concerns to your recent application for Charms Professor. Bring with you a list of credentials. Be on time or do not bother coming._

_Best of Luck, Headmaster S. Snape_

She could practically hear him sneer that last line. And now she would be late. She slumped against the wall half heartedly, damning herself for allowing her hopes to rise. As if Snape would truly want the insufferable know-it-all on the staff. Still, it had been a chance to come back home. After graduation, she attended le Academia de Paris and graduated valedictorian with a Mage degree. She had tried various odd jobs in Development and had even dabbled in Mediwizardry. But nothing had fit. She missed the playful staircases and the trick steps and the Library, with its high vaulted ceilings and rows of undiscovered books waiting to divulge such precious secrets. Walking through the Great Hall, she had felt like she was coming home.

A flash of silver caught her eye. "Hello, Sir Nicholas." Hermione tried to muster up a little spirit, but failed. "It has been a long time!"

"Indeed it has. May I inquire as to the reason for your visit? Surely you're not here to see Severus?" He motioned towards the immobile gargoyle.

"I am. I have a job interview this stupid thing won't let me in," she nodded rudely to said statue.

"Severus forgot to tell you the password, hmm? 'Toblerone' I think it is," offered Sir Nick to a highly unbelieving Hermione. The gargoyle stuck its tongue out as it obediently slid aside. Hardly believing her luck, Hermione said a hasty goodbye to Sir Nick and sped inside. She knocked on the door as the ninth bell tolled.

SS0SS0SS

Severus firmly shut the door in her bushy face. Honestly, did she think he enjoyed answering a flurry of questions every bloody time that he saw her? He had relented and given her the job after begrudgingly admitting that she was vastly overqualified (under the sternly twinkling eyes of Dumbledore's portrait). He could only hope she would become bored with the monotony of charms. Somehow, though, he didn't think a girl who defined a great night by reading a book was applying for just sentimental reasons.

He sat heavily in his chair and rubbed his temples. Severus firmly maintained that he would not have hired her, Charms class be damned were it not for the daft portrait. Would Albus Dumbledore forever control him, even in death? It would be a long year at the staff table…

Dumbledore couldn't help but smile from his portrait. Minerva (who had reigned as Headmaster for two years before succumbing quite peacefully to heart failure) sat opposite him, having dropped in for a visit.

"What are you planning, you senile old wizard?" Minerva said, lips pursed in amusement. Honestly, the man was dead and still wished to interfere?

"Nothing," said Albus, patting her knee absently. The twinkle in his eye was blinding.

Not for the first time, she wondered if Albus had some Slytherin blood in him somewhere.

SS0SS0SS

**A week later**

Hermione had been pleasantly surprised to find that her quarters as a teacher (and Head of House as the only resident Gryffindor) were huge by her standards. Of course, sharing a two bedroom flat with Ginny and then Lavender for the last two years hadn't set her standards too high. Still, that didn't diminish the sprawling four post bed or the quaint window ledge that was her breakfast nook or the plush couch and armchairs set cozily by the marble fireplace. In addition to an office was a smaller guest room, which she had promptly converted to a library to house her many tomes. Keebly, her personal house elf, had been positively delighted to help decorate, and it had only taken two hours to personalize the space. She had complimented the dark wood in her suite by converting the almost overbearing red and gold to a softer combination of robin's egg and light green. The effect was striking and she loved it.

But the gorgeous surroundings didn't distract her. Hermione was in a fit of nerves. Normally, she worked well under pressure, but this was an entirely different matter. She had been given only ten days until the beginning of term and, while ex-Professor Flitwick had given her his timetables, they were incomplete (there were entire weeks were it just said 'Learn new Charms') and she hardly felt prepared. And so, here she sat, running her finger down a column and savoring the piney scent of her new roll top desk at nearly two in the morning.

Sighing heavily, Hermione realized that one of the references she needed was in the library. She could send Keebly for it, but after noticing the time and her rumbling stomach, she decided to get it for herself and swing by the kitchens for a late snack. After this, she promised herself, she _would_ go to sleep.

She wound her way through the castle, eyes trained on her book. Her feet knew the way to the library well and her mind was else where. She pushed the heavy door open with her foot and walked into her heaven. Breathing in the musty smell of thousands of books, she looked up and was surprised to see a light bobbing at one of the far corners. Frowning in curiosity, she made her way through the aisles to investigate. What she saw surprised her.

Severus Snape sat, back to her, studying a chess board. His long white fingers grasped the black rook and moved it forward. A white pawn moved forward on its own.

"The pieces are enchanted." Snape offered, not turning around.

Hermione jumped. "Hello, sir."

'_Sir?!?'_ she thought angrily, cursing her slip of tongue. Why did he make her feel like a first year again?

"Sit," Snape motioned to the chair across from him. "Why are you spying on me at so late an hour, Miss Granger?"

"I'm still preparing for next Monday. Professor Flitwick's timetables were surprisingly inadequate and I wasn't spying…" She hesitated, not knowing how to address him, "…Severus." She was brave.

Snape raised his eyes from the board at her temerity. "I will inform you when, if ever, you may take the liberty of using my given name." The black bishop was moved diagonally across the board. "Your turn," he said.

Hermione stared dumbly at him. "I don't play."

He raised his obsidian eyes to her honey ones. "You don't know how to play?" He sounded incredulous at her inadequacy.

"I do," she found herself defending her meek skills. "I choose not to. Something about watching your friends being bashed by life size pieces tends to turn you off the game, I suppose."

"That may be true," Snape nodded. "But three facts remain. One, Mr. Weasley came to no permanent harm. I've been assured he was that way before said incident. Two, these pieces are hardly life size and three, it is your turn."

Hermione considered. It probably wasn't the best idea to anger her employer, although he was putting her very much on the spot. She rolled her eyes heavenward and moved a white knight.

"May I ask you a question?" Hermione ventured after a few moments of silence.

"After seven years of teaching you, I found no way of stopping you."

She took this as consent. "I'm curious. Toblerone? What possessed you?"

"Would _you_ have guessed it?" Severus asked amusedly. He looked up and Hermione was surprised to see him smiling.

Snape saw her eyebrows raise in shock, her eyes trained on the upturned corners of his mouth and quickly soured. "Is it really so amazing?"- her eyes dropped- "Once again, Granger, it is your turn."

The game was conducted thereafter in silence and soon the white king cast down his crown. No sooner had Hermione lost, that Snape reset the pieces. Hermione conceded to a second game. And lost less quickly on the third. After the fourth match, Snape put the pieces into a felt-lined box, nodded goodnight, and left without a word.

Hermione sat at the wooden table, tracing a carving, and mulled over the oddity of his behavior. He hadn't been nice, in the strictest sense of the word, but he had been…cordial? She shook her head and stood up, stretching the popping tendons in her legs.

Snape appeared over her shoulder as she toured the aisles, reacquainting herself with the library. He scared her half to death and it was only her deeply ingrained habit of being quiet in the library that kept her from yelling out.

"These were in the earlier files," he said, shoving a thick file into her hand. "Most teachers, after years of the same subject get lax about the schedules. Those are more complete."

With that, he swept away from Hermione, thinking curiously about his own actions. Had he honestly just invited her to play chess with him and then make easier the job he hadn't wanted her to take in the first place? Either the years without war had turned him soft, he thought wryly, or there was something in the water.

Behind him, Hermione stood, watching his trademark billowing exit. "Well, that was certainly nice."

The library echoed.

"You don't have to sound so surprised," he called to her, leaving her blushing furiously and Snape was forced to suppress the second wayward smile of the night.

SS0SS0SS

**Eek! Read and Review, por favor! I know I beg, but it truly does help… Pweeezz?1?**


	2. Even Neville

Even Neville

Pt. 2

Hermione sat at the back of the teacher's lounge and sipped at the headache potion in front of her. The taste was vile but it was absolutely necessary after the last, most trying, hour. She had taught her first class- Gryffindor/ Slytherin fourth years and had been shocked at the level of danger a herd of fifteen-year-olds could inflict in an hour. They had begun with a simple review and had been shocked to find over half the students unable to perform a simple Cheering Charm. Thank Merlyn she had two off periods before a double class of first years. Those (she prayed) she could handle.

Severus strode into the room quietly; years of spying had ingrained this habit deeply. His eyebrow rose when he saw the newest member of his staff draining an amber liquid and shuddering at the taste.

His lip curled. "_Professor_ Granger. I do hope that is not alcohol. A drunk employee will not be tolerated," he sneered, sweeping across the room and grabbing the bottle from her hand.

Hermione was stunned speechless.

For a third of a second.

"How **dare** you accuse me of consuming alcohol? On my first day of work, no less? You may be my boss, Severus Snape, but you will not treat me so rudely."

Snape brought the bottle to his overly large nose and inhaled. _Shite! That's no whiskey. That's a potion. And you're a git, Snape old boy. _Taking what he wished was a grounding breath, he bowed his head. "I offer my sincerest apologies. I should not have jumped to conclusions, especially as I know your character to be a responsible one." He studied her reaction and she still seemed irked. _Perhaps humor? It worked to distract her last night_, his Slytherin instincts urged him. "I've never seen someone grimace at a headache potion." He took a delicate sip and shuttered. "Granger, this potion tastes as though Longbottom brewed it. It is undoubtedly expired."

"Well, it was in the cupboard over there," she said, motioning to the case to her right.

"Hangover potions expire after three months. You knew this though, of course. These are probably from last term."

She nodded glumly. "That's why the confounded thing won't work," she said, rubbing her temples.

Severus peered at her. She was, quite obviously, in pain. "You have two off periods, yes?" –she nodded- "Come with me."

He hauled her to her feet and set off through the halls. Hermione was in a state of shock. Severus Snape was willingly touching her. True, it wasn't a soft caress or anywhere near to it. He was gripping her upper arm rather forcefully and using his leverage to steer her. It took her a moment to question where there destination was.

"A headache potion only takes an hour to make. We'll make a large batch to last the staff room the first quarter. That is," and here he paused their stride, "if you would consent to brew with me. Alone it would take me twice the time."

She nodded and they continued toward the potion's lab while Hermione fervently tried to remember the instructions for the complicated potion. Severus opened the door for her and Hermione felt herself being ushered through the door. "Chivalry lives?" she joked. Ron and Harry, much though she loved them, weren't exactly shining beacons of gentlemanly manners.

"It would appear so, milady," he quipped, continuing through another door and through the supplies cabinet, wordlessly summoning the ingredients not already in his lab.

They had been brewing for thirty minutes and Hermione was gazing into nothingness contemplating Snape's hot/cold attitude towards her. And, it must be said, wholly ignoring the potion happily bubbling in front of her. She noticed, with a start, that the solution was a dark purple indicating it was seconds away from boiling over and rendering her work unusable. She snatched the cauldron away from the flame with a yelp of pain, placing it onto the wooden surface in front of her.

Severus was immediately on his feet. Even after a relatively quiet ten years, his reflexes were razor sharp. Hermione looked up from her blistering hand. "I burnt my hand," she explained, before he could even ask the question.

"That much is apparent," his voice was soft as he rose from the bench. He grabbed a container of salve off one of the higher shelves and seated himself opposite her. "May I?"

The silence stretched as he finished applying the ointment across her skin. His attentions were so complete, and the moment somehow became an almost tender one. Somehow, she mused, Snape had transformed. True, he was still snarky and borderline abusive in his language at times. But she didn't fear him like she had as a student. Maybe, she reflected further, it was she that had changed and she'd been in favour of change up until then... but now, for the first time, she was unsettlingly aware of him as being _male_. A smart, quick witted male that… _no! Down, girl. He's also a greasy, snarky git!_

Snape rose and replaced the jar. When he turned back, his face was once more schooled to impassion.

"In the future, Miss Granger, please kindly refrain from touching searing cauldrons with your bare hands. Even Longbottom managed to grasp that concept sometime around third year."

"Oh, Honestly! That's the second time you've picked on Neville. Leave off!" she humphed, returning once more to her work.

Bent over a sprig of holly, shredding furiously in an attempt to ignore him, Snape couldn't help but realize how nicely the flame made her skin glow.

**A/N: So, things are starting to become a little tense… hope you liked it. I kind of ripped the idea from my one-shot, The Burn (I cheated and used some of the same phraseology too…), but I've always wanted to write a brew & burn story so there it is. Anyways, I promise the next chapter will have a nice little stand off. Can't have them getting too cozy, too soon, eh? Anyways, read and review, as always!!! Mwah!**


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